


if/then

by lorcleis



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, During Canon, Fix-It, M/M, Seth Gordon whump, Soft Seth Gordon, You must be a Level 5 Friend to unlock my tragic backstory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-04
Updated: 2020-07-04
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:27:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25060846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lorcleis/pseuds/lorcleis
Summary: Seth liked to deal in if/then statements and it became a game of sorts. He gave an if, Neil gave a then.
Relationships: Seth Gordon & Neil Josten, Seth Gordon/Neil Josten
Comments: 9
Kudos: 73





	if/then

**Author's Note:**

> Seth Gordon deserved better, so I'm going to give him better. Takes place during canon but Seth is from Alabama now, no take-backs.

Neil didn’t remember thinking much of Seth when he first saw him. 

Brute, might have been the first term that came to mind, but he was all lean muscle, packed together in corresponding parts like building blocks. The way Seth looked made sense; symmetrical and pleasing to the eye, even with that damnable lopsided smile. Neil often wondered how Allison managed to kiss him even as he roped her in for that first kiss in the hallway. Their foreheads could barely touch, he was so tall.

Neil ducked back into their room and busied himself with folding his clothes. He could worry about this new variable later.

* * *

Settling into the new room situation was interesting for Neil. He wasn’t sure why he was paired with the upperclassmen over the other team members who were closer to his age or his ability. Kevin felt like he slotted in with Matt and Seth’s larger stature better than Neil did, but the top bunk on his lofted bed over Matt’s allowed him to blend in, disappear even. 

It was a week before Matt and Seth switched beds, not without a small amount of bribery on Matt’s part. Seth was tall, but Matt positively towered, and even though the bottom bunk jutting out perpendicular to Neil’s lofted one offered some amount of space, the twin XL that Seth had been inhabiting had the precious extra inches that kept Matt’s feet within the bed frame.

He also was known to press Dan into the sheets when the other two were absent; Seth in Allison’s dorm and Neil god knows where.

Matt liked to study in the dorm, he said it afforded him some semblance of peace, while Seth took to the library a few blocks from Fox Tower to plug away at his coding homework while Allison played footsie with him underneath the table. Neil saw her wear slides decorated with jewels and feathers as often as he saw her in heels. Easy access, he guessed.

Neil didn’t know why he’d signed up for Comp Sci 101, but he thought maybe he’d gain enough insight to be able to protect himself better on the road. The library let him check out a laptop for the semester and he lugged it back to his dorm to plant it on his rickety wooden desk where it started to gather dust.

Four weeks into the semester, Neil had hit a roadblock. The brightly-coloured bits of C Sharp floated in front of his gaze as it gave him the same error code no matter what he did. The assignment was glaringly simple, but it was nearly midnight now and it was due tomorrow.

“Jesus Christ, you’re still up?” Seth asked as he walked into the room. He threw his bag on the ground next to his bed and spared Neil a quick glance.

“Homework,” Neil mumbled as he stared at his screen, eyes unfocused. 

“Turn the fucking brightness down. You’ll burn your eyes off with it that high.” Seth was poised to flop onto the bed until he saw what Neil was working on. “Oh, comp sci?”

Neil shrugged. “It was either take this or chem, and I’m not taking fucking chem.”

Seth stands and bends over to look at Neil’s screen, scanning the code and making the occasional noise. After a minute or so he leaned over Neil to type something then returned to his bed, flopping down with his phone in hand. 

“Run it now.” He sniffed. “You were missing a bracket.”

“Thanks?” Neil shot him a look then ran the code. It worked perfectly.

“Don’t mention it,” he replied.

* * *

Seth didn’t like him, but at least he stayed out of Neil’s way and vice versa. Neil would never measure up to Seth’s standard of what a striker should be, but he was inching his way forward and would get there eventually.

It was a week before Seth noticed Neil continuing to struggle with his assignments, and another few days before he gave in and shoved Neil aside in their tiny dorm room in an attempt to help him stay away from academic probation.

“Even though you suck considerable donkey balls, I don’t want you to be benched on a goddamn technicality, Josten,” Seth grumbled.

He pointed out flaws in code at first, then broader issues that branched into him reteaching what Neil missed in his lectures as he slept. When Matt was out with Dan, they spent long stretched of time at Neil’s borrowed laptop; Seth pressed against the headboard of his bed, Neil on his flimsy swivel chair as Seth attempted to explain what was right in front of him for the tenth time. He wasn’t used to people caring, even the superficial care that Seth gave him. It made an odd sensation bloom in his chest.

Seth liked to deal in if/then statements and it became a game of sorts. He gave an if, Neil gave a then.

“If you don’t get an A on this project,” Seth began. He threw an exy ball up towards the ceiling and caught it.

“Then I drop down to a 60%,” Neil replied. “Not sure that’s what we want.”

Seth shrugged. “You can afford it. I don’t think you’ll get and A on this, even if you let me write it.”

Neil turned to him. “Then what the fuck are we doing banging our heads against the wall, Gordon?”

“Well, Josten,” he sat up with a sneer on his face. “If someone had let me order pizza so some people could watch a dumb movie on cable instead of doing someone’s comp sci homework the night before it’s due, maybe we’d be having a little more fun.”

Neil waved him away. “You eat so much fucking junk, the last thing you need is to stuff yourself with pizza.”

Seth stood and grabbed Neil from his chair by the arm, yanking him up like he was a puppy and carrying him out to the living room of their suite. Neil let out a yelp, but let himself be carried. 

“Your assignment isn’t going to get any better,” Seth said, throwing Neil onto the couch. “Those bags under your eyes are so blue they make the Arctic fucking Ocean jealous, and when was the last time you ate a slice of greasy-ass, all-American, pepper-fucking-roni pizza, Neil Josten?”

Neil looked at him, dumbfounded, and rubbed at the bruises forming on his arm. 

“Exactly,” Seth said. “Now sit on that couch, watch a stupid movie that neither of us like, and I’m going to go order some Dominoes.”

They land on a Hallmark special and a Hawaiian pizza, a flavour neither of them agreed on was their favourite but both agreed was heinous enough to keep them interested. Seth took unrelenting joy in the overwrought scenes of the movie, miming them moments after they happened with a smile Neil could mistake for delighted. 

He ate five pieces of pizza. The next morning, he got an A on his assignment.

* * *

Practices fell into a comfortable rhythm and he soldiered on, oblivious to the outside world. Even as his name was announced to the public. Even as the Foxes fans began to grow restless.

“Hey, it’s that fucking exy player, the new striker,” someone to Neil’s left said.

He was walking back after class, shoulders hunched, but the surname on his anorak was unmistakeable. It was dark out now and he should have brought something else to change into. He hated how the Foxes jacket was now the most comfortable thing he owned and he hated how it felt draped around him like collar. Like a funeral shroud.

“God, our exy team fucking sucks,” said another voice.

“Fuck off.” 

He didn’t remember spitting out the words, but suddenly the group off hecklers veered back towards him; hoodie-clad and looking for a fight. But Neil could appreciate that kind of energy, that restlessness that needs a physical manifestation, lest it collapse in on itself.

And so it was Neil who threw the first punch, and he went down swinging.

* * *

“Fuck, you’re heavy.” 

He’d called Seth as he laid on the pavement, his face a mess of blood, his fingers groaning in pain. He didn’t know why; maybe it was because Seth’s number was somehow on speed dial, maybe it was because he knew Kevin would kill him and Andrew wouldn’t care. Seth would care enough not to let him die, but not enough to tell anyone else bout what had happened. 

And he showed up. Neil hadn’t expected him to show up.

“Sorry, I—“ Neil winced as Seth forced him into the bathroom in their dorm, locking the door behind him. He could barely stand, his eyes almost swollen shut.

“Fuck you saying sorry for, Josten?” Seth talked like he was just moving hay bales on a farm. He set to work peeling the blood-spattered hoodie from Neil’s prone form.

“The fight,” he managed to gasp out.  
Seth shrugged. “Fighting’s pretty normal when you’re a fox. You’ll get used to it. C’mon, I’ve gotta clean you up before mother hen comes back.”

Something in the back of Neil’s mind told him to protest, but he was too tired, his limbs too heavy. Still, he tensed with the echo of fight or flight when Seth finally got down to his shirt, revealing his scars.

Seth let out a slow whistle, blinking at the marks that covered Neil’s body. “That’s not all from tonight, is it?”

“…no.” Neil’s voice was a wretched thing.

“Huh.” Seth turned the shower on. “I’ve seen worse.”

He leaned above Neil to help him up and out of the spray as it warmed, supporting him with a light grip underneath his armpits. Every so often, he checked the temperature.  
“You aren’t going to ask?” It wasn’t what Neil had expected. Seth asked about everything. There’s no way the scars covering their newest striker wasn’t of interest.

He made a face. “No, now tilt your head back. I might as well wash your hair while I’m here; it’s a fucking rat’s nest.”

Slowly, the blood was washed from Neil’s body and Dollar Tree soap was worked into the spaces where his skin wasn’t split. Seth lathered up Neil’s hair with shampoo that smelled of musk and let the warm water rinse it away. After checking to make sure he wasn’t going to collapse, he grabbed a wide-toothed comb from under the sink and started to work out the tangles with conditioner, because of course Seth Gordon used conditioner.

“You want some food?” Seth asked Neil as he tended to Neil’s face with a damp washcloth.

Neil could only shake his head no, his muscles too tense to let him relax. 

He hummed in response, then turned him to wash the last remnants of the fight away as best he could.

Seth set him down in his bed on the bottom bunk. The next morning he’d say something about how he didn’t want to lug all of Neil’s dead weight up to the lofted top bunk, but Neil knew better. He wanted to make sure he survived the night.

“Did you mean it?” Neil mumbled, his words slurred by the painkillers Seth had him take with a swig of Dr. Pepper.

“What?” Seth was crouched by the side of the bed, fussing with the covers. The remnants of a smile tugged at his lips.

“That you’d seen worse before.” His face was half-hidden in the pillow, his eyes almost closed, but he could still see Seth’s outline as he reached for one of Neil’s scars on his shoulder.

“Oh, Neil.” Seth said it like a prayer as he ghosted his fingertips over the outline of his shoulder blade. He turned the gesture into a practical one, tucking the edges of the blanket underneath Neil’s body. “Get some sleep.”

Neil’s eyelid fluttered closed. He was vaguely aware of Seth’s hand in his hair but he didn’t know how long it was there.

* * *

Seth liked to croon. It was something he discovered when they borrowed Matt’s truck to go on a late night pizza run to the one good place in town that only did takeaway. A country song came over the radio and Seth turned it up with glee, shouting the words onto a darkened highway. Neil never had much patience with music before, but he knew that song by heart by the time they made it home.

He claimed it came from being raised in Alabama, but Neil thought he just enjoyed the absurdity of country music’s twisted takes on love, life, and fishing. He’d never seen Seth partake in any of country’s favourite past times, but he did notice his almost impressive sweet tea intake whenever they sped through the McDonalds drive-through. 

He ate junk food with reckless abandon, but his favourite snack was peanut M&Ms. Once, Neil got him a package from the vending machine on his way back from class and it earned him one of Seth’s rare smiles.

Or rather, rare for anyone else. He discovered Seth gave them rather freely when they were alone.

“I’ll let you in on a secret,” Seth said as he dumped the M&Ms on the coffee table and began to sort them. “There’s only one flavour worth eating, and it’s the blue ones.”

Neil shot him a look and grabbed a glass of water from the fridge. “They’re different colours, not flavours.”

“See, you just marked yourself as an M&M layman. A plebeian, a rube.” Seth spoke in earnest as he corralled the blue group into one corner of the warped paneling on the coffee table. “The blue ones are simply superior.”

Neil snorted. “Whatever you say.”

When he got back to the couch, Seth gestured for him to open his hands. “Here.” He dumped the rest of the colours into Neil’s waiting grasp. “Eat up.”

Neil rolled his eyes.

* * *

They called it Seth’s dark day, and no one bothered to notify Neil about it based on an unspoken agreement to care fuck-all about Seth’s business. He figured Seth preferred it this way; close enough to let them see you sweat, but far enough way so they can’t see you break.

After an absence from both practices that day, he found Seth on the football field of all things, a bottle of cheap whiskey in one hand. 

“Oh, good,” Seth grumbled. “You found me. Did the others not tell you to stay the fuck away?”

“They don’t tell me much,” he replied.

Neil looked at Seth in all his glory, sitting on the empty field in grass-stained jeans. His truck was parked by the curb (and Neil sure as hell wasn’t letting him drive out of here in it), the whiskey was from underneath their kitchen cabinet. A minute of terse silence was all Neil needed to know that Seth wasn’t going to be leaving this field without a fight, so he decided to sit next to him instead.

“Fuck off,” Seth barked, taking another pull from the bottle. “You’re not welcome here. Not today.”

Neil fucking hated knowing everyone’s business before they even knew it himself. It was a curse. “What is today, Seth?”

“None of your fucking business, that’s what.” Seth was being belligerent, but it was mostly just for show.

Neil hummed, drawing his knees to his chest as he looked out at the horizon. The weather was nice; a temperate evening with a beautiful sunset that Neil might even say he enjoyed looking at. It was a pretty day.

“You’re not like the rest of ‘em, you know.” Seth’s words were slurred. “They all woulda— well, you know, by now. Gone ballistic or some shit. Gotten mad that I’m not talkin’. But you don’t talk, do you? You never fucking talk to them. You barely talk to me. You’re some fucked up kinda shit.”

Neil blinked back at him in response.

A grin spread across Seth’s face. “I kinda like it, Josten. You’ve got a certain charm.”

The whiskey bottle went fast in the next hour. He offered it to Neil, who declined it as politely as he could, then continued to drink himself silly. 

“You know, I used to like football.” Seth stretched out with a sigh. “I’ve got siblings, you see. Back in Alabama. And ever since we were little, momma would bring us out to watch the guys play. There was my older brothers Landon and Chirp, middle kid Hunter, my sister Shelly, and uh, well, me. They were all good at something. Landon and Chip took sports like fish to water. Shelly liked horses. I liked exy. Couldn’t get into football, no matter how hard I tried. Momma wanted me to play for ‘Bama, but their exy team is shit. Even worse than ours.” 

Seth bit his lip, tearing at the grass with one hand. “Then there was my little brother Robbie. He was the runt of the litter, but only two years behind me. Big, big football star. Huge.” He gestured wildly, looking down at Neil as he did. “He… uh, really had our town in knots over the kind of talent in those tiny feet of his. What a player— I mean, when I say he could play, Josten, I mean he could play. He blew momma away whenever she saw him on the field. And with those pretty eyes and hair of his, well…” He drank from the whiskey. “Favourite child material, right there. Not even Shelly could compete, and she got married to one of them fancy politicians in Mobile.”

Neil watched Seth ramble. Usually what he said didn’t take on a shape, but the look in Seth’s eyes felt so far away.

“You even look a little like him.” He turned and gazed at Neil like he was in some sort of trance. “All skin and bones, quick feet and quick thinking. Talent from tip to toe, that’s what momma always said.” He sighed and made a move as if to go for the bottle again, but stopped, rubbing the neck between his thumb and index finger.

“One night, they’d won state. It was a big honor for him to be a sophomore in high school and win fucking state. So they all piled into the back of my truck with Robbie calling the shots and we went out to the fields to party. It didn’t feel so different from any other kinda night and I made sure to not drink too much. I was a good brother.” Seth’s voice cracked for a moment. He sniffed, wiping at his nose. “But he went home in someone else’s car. I lost track of him. I, uh— They found the car the next morning. Overturned on the highway. Jonah Rivers’ kid was drunk as a skunk and tried to pull a doughnut going eighty miles an hour like a fuckin’ idiot.”

Seth cleared his throat. “The kid walked away with some scrapes, a few bruises. Robbie got his head bashed in by the concrete barrier they ended up wrapping themselves around. Him and another kid got sent six feet under. He’d, uh— he’d just turned fifteen. Closed casket; no pretty face in sight.”

Neil knew tears were coming and they were coming fast, but he wasn’t sure what do to help when they did. He shifted closer to Seth, gently taking the bottle from between his fingers. 

“He would’ve been twenty-one today,” Seth said, his eyes shining. He looked down at Neil with a miserable expression. “All that talent, all that goodness, all gone in the blink of an eye. All because of someone else’s stupid mistake. But I—” A tear slipped from the corner of his eye as his voice broke again. Seth clenched his hands into fists. “I was a good brother. I got him to school on time, I made sure he always had money for lunch. I picked him up from practice. I helped him with his homework, even late at night. I should’ve been there for him.”

Neil considered Seth for a moment, then wrapped his arm around Seth’s shoulders, pulling him close. “You did all that you could. It wasn’t your fault.”

Seth wanted to scream; he wanted to fight back, but his voice only came in ragged, gasping sobs. He pushed against Neil. “Fuck, I hate you.” 

“I know.” Neil held him tight. He thought about how Seth’s brother looked like him; a talented kid with everything to lose. He stroked Seth’s hair with a hesitant hand, his other gripping the back of Seth’s shirt and Seth gripped the front of his. “But you were a good brother. I believe you. And it wasn’t your fault.”

* * *

The team didn’t know that Neil and Seth found solace in each other. Any time they were seen hanging out was waved away as some sort of fluke: roommate obligations, team activities, or classroom struggles. No one knew that Neil had friends, and no one thought Seth capable. 

But he knew they’d figure out eventually.

Neil saw the argument build before it reached his ears. It didn’t matter what it was about, but it had Seth screaming at Andrew, his frame hulking over the goal. Andrew stood there, placid as ever, as if this was the kind of shit he could do all day.

“Do you want to say that again, Minyard?” Seth roared. 

The others were on them in a minute, Matt pushing at Seth in a good-natured attempt to get his head back in the game, but it wasn’t working. He took a swing an Andrew and it connected.

“Hey!” Kevin pulled at Seth as they began to brawl but it was of no use. When Seth got in his head a fight was going to happen, it was going to happen.

It took Neil a second to come to terms with what he was going to do, but if the fabric of the group was going to stay together (or at least pacify the hand that was unraveling it), he was going to have to concede one point of his private life he’d come to covet.

Neil slid between Seth and Andrew, taking a few blows to the back of his light armour and putting a hand out towards Seth. “Hey, hey-- Seth! Hey.”

He caught Seth’s eye and held it, his hand lightly pressing on Seth’s jersey. The cloth felt slick under his fingers and he grasped it lightly, his hand a soft pressure over Seth’s heart. “Look at me, Seth.” 

Andrew tried to get another punch in around Neil’s body but the others deflected it. Seth grunted, his attention back on Andrew, but Neil wouldn’t stop talking to him. He wouldn’t take his hand away. 

“Look at me, Seth.” Neil felt like he was calming down a wild animal, but Seth’s frantic eyes found his and he could see some of the fight go out of them. Seth put a hand over Neil’s and let his shoulders slump, his head falling forwards. 

All was quiet.

Neil was vaguely aware of a whistle blowing from the outer court and he ducked his head to catch Seth’s gaze through his helmet.

“Let’s get back to practice, alright?” Neil’s tone was gentle and low, ensuring no one else heard him.

Seth nodded wordlessly and rubbed Neil’s hand, the gesture hidden by the concave of his shoulders. He released it and stepped back into formation as if nothing had happened. 

“That’s new,” he heard Nicky say as Neil returned to his place.

“It’s like fucking Beauty and the Beast.” Andrew spat. He looked at Neil. “You’re beauty, by the way.”

“Fuck you,” Neil retorted.

* * *

Seth and Allison came along when Neil skewered Riko on national television and while everyone’s instinct was to hold Andrew back when Kevin was shoved into the spotlight, it was Allison who put a hand on Seth’s shoulder, despite them being in one of their off stages.

When the lights died down and Neil was allowed to leave the stage, Seth wrenched himself from Allison’s grasp and took two steps towards him.

“What the fuck did you think you were doing?” he asked, his rage barely contained. 

“It’s not--” Neil began, but Seth pulled him into a crushing hug.

“You’re the fucking worst.” Seth seethed.

It took Neil a moment, but he relaxed and let Seth hold him. “I know,” he mumbled into Seth’s sweatshirt. He remembered it was the one he’d tugged on yesterday after crawling into bed. It smelled like him.

From across the studio, Riko watched them with careful eyes and a plan fell into place.

* * *

 **IF to THEN, 8:45PM.**  
i wish you had come out with us. allison’s friends are so fucking boring lmao

 **IF to THEN, 9:11PM.**  
cmon you can’t possibly be having a great time with the monsters. get them to drive you here. we’re at the vic

 **IF to THEN, 11:05PM.**  
remind me to never let allison buy me drinks. whatever was in this one was strong as fuck

 **IF to THEN, 1:37AM.**  
 _VOICE MESSAGE:_ Do you ever think about how like, you just kinda fell into our lives and haven’t let us go like a fucking koala bear?

 **IF to THEN, 1:38AM.**  
 _VOICE MESSAGE:_ You’re my best fucking friend, man. 

**IF to THEN, 1:40AM.**  
 _VOICE MESSAGE:_ Can you get one of the monsters to come pick me up? I can’t find Allison and my head— god, it fucking hurts. 

**IF to THEN, 1:52AM.**  
 _VOICE MESSAGE:_ I’m gonna— fuck— I’m gonna try to make it back to the room. Don’t worry about Riko, you’ll be fine. We’re unstoppable, right? Love you, man. Stay safe out there.

YOUR MESSAGES FAILED TO SEND.

* * *

The funeral was pitiful, the wake even worse. Not one of Seth’s siblings made it up for the ceremony, and he wondered how many of them had met a fate like Seth’s and he just didn’t know. How many more Robbies were in the Gordon family?

Neil brought Seth’s ashes back to the dorm and sat them in the empty space that was his bed. Even the mattress was gone by the time they’d returned from Abby’s house. Neil sat down on the ground and curled in on himself, staring at the ashes until he felt his vision begin to swim. Eventually, Allison entered the room too and sat next to him.

“Did you fuck him?” she asked, her arms around her knees, her dead-eyed stare focused on the urn in that punishingly bare corner of the room.

“What--? No, I-- I wouldn’t--!” Neil’s skin felt pinprick-hot as his cheeks reddened.

Allison snorted. “Hold your horses, I wasn’t accusing you of anything. I was just asking.”

He settled down for a fraction of a second. “No.”

“But you thought about it.” It wasn’t a question. 

Neil hesitated. “Yes.”

A silence stretched between them before Allison grunted, shifting her position on the floor. “Well, he was a good lay. You missed out.”

“I didn’t--” Neil started and stopped like a stalled car. “He was happy with you.”

She turned her gaze to him, her eyes narrowing. It wasn’t uncomfortable, but he wasn’t used to it either. “Is that what you would call it?” She turned back to the urn. “Never figured you for an optimist.”

“I’m not.” Neil said it too quickly. 

As Allison’s eyes glanced over the urn, Neil thought about all the times he might have kissed Seth, but he came up short. What he felt for him wasn’t romantic, not exactly. He might mistake it for that if he didn’t think too hard, but the comfort of their friendship, secret as it was, brought a peace to Neil’s jittery nature. It was nice to know that he had someone who would take his word, no questions asked; someone who would check up on him because they cared about his well-being, not the team’s. Someone who loved him, even if it was only for a little while.

“This is all that’s left,” Allison said in a voice so small Neil might have missed it. Her eyes were watery now, and it choked her voice. “And in a few days, it’ll be even less. They won’t remember him; not like we do. Sometimes, I hate him for it. I wish I’d never loved him.”

Neil looked at her: the formidable dealer drowned in Seth’s old sweatshirt, her hair pulled into a bird’s nest of barrettes and baubles. She had eyeliner on, but it looked like she hadn’t washed it since the funeral.

“You don’t mean that.”

Allison wrenched her gaze from the urn back to him. She opened her mouth as if to say something, but her bottom lip wobbled so she shut it. 

Neil cleared his throat. “You don’t mean it, Allison.”

A tear slipped from the corner of her eye and she shuffled towards him, pulling his face to her chest as he awkwardly ended up in her lap. “Come here, you fucking useless piece of shit.”

He’d never heard her insult him like that, only Seth. It comforted him in an odd way.

Allison began to cry, her tears wetting his hair. “I hate him so much.”

Gingerly, Neil put his arms around her and rubbed her back in soothing circles like he did to Seth all those weeks ago. He let her cry like he let Seth cry and he tried not to think about how similar they were and how that made the ache in his chest feel heavier. 

It was ages before she pulled away with a sniff to keep her emotions in check. Even with red eyes and tear streaks, she still looked beautiful. 

“Thanks,” she said, giving him a once over. A smile crept up her face. “That was his, wasn’t it?”

Neil looked down in surprise. He hadn’t even realized he was wearing Seth’s sweatshirt; the bright red dulled by innumerous washes, the Alabama lettering faded. 

“Y-yes,” Neil said finally. He couldn’t help the fear that crept into his voice.

Allison smiled to herself. “It looks good on you.”

* * *

When they took the court next week, Allison jogged up to Neil before warm-ups began and pressed something into his hands. 

“He would have liked that it found a new home,” she said with a wink.

Neil raised an eyebrow and looked down at his hands where he saw a glint of gold. Seth’s necklace.

“Allison--” he choked out.

“No,” she shook her head. “You’re the striker. You’re stepping into his shoes. It’s yours.”

He held it up, the stadium lights glinting off a pair of crossed exy rackets, as delicate as Seth decidedly was not. Neil could feel his skin heat up as he decided what to do with the gift, settling for putting it in his pocket. 

“Thank you.” He swallowed with some effort.

Allison put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed gently. “No problem. Let’s play.”

He was distracted throughout warm-ups and drills and when he took his place on the court, Kevin gave him a look.

“You okay?” His anxiety was visible through his helmet.

Neil nodded, then paused, fishing through his pocket for Seth’s necklace. He clasped it and tucked it underneath his jersey, pressed safely against his heart.

He remembered Seth’s summery smile, how it went all the way to his eyes when he was blaring country music or talking about whatever shit he’d gotten up to that day. How he’d only eat the blue M&Ms and snuck the rest to Neil. How he never, ever, let them see his heart.

Seth dreamed of glory on the court one day; of a life in exy worth justifying why he was there. He dreamed to matter, even if it was just to one person. 

If you put on the necklace? He can almost hear Seth asking him. 

Then it’ll be like you never left.

“Yeah.” Neil slid the guard of his helmet into place and gripped his racquet. “I’m fine.”


End file.
